Phone Booths
by DarkPrincess128
Summary: Perhaps old-timey phone booths were worth a little more than Edgeworth initially thought. PhoenixEdgeworth.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Phoenix Wright or any of its characters.**

**A/N: It's been a while since I wrote a fanfiction, let alone for this fandom, let alone for this ship. Have I even ever written for this ship? Huh. Anyway, I hope you like it!**

Phone booths were one of those types of commodities that had become so useless in Edgeworth's time that the idea of them still being on London streets seemed ridiculous. Who were they fooling? Aside from an archaic notion of memory or retaining something of the past, the usefulness or purpose of public phone booths seemed to Edgeworth to be virtually nonexistent.

Which is why, when his cell and PDA all of a sudden died on him, he was at a loss.

After cursing the skies, Edgeworth went through a list of options as to what to do. It was completely deserted, the street he was on – where had everyone gone! He was in London; it doesn't just become completely deserted in the evening, even if it was 5 o'clock on a Sunday. No cabs in sight. No people from which to ask to borrow their phones. No means of communication…

…except for the bloody phone booth.

Edgeworth let out a discontented groan at the idea of having to use such an old-timey and very cheesy item. It seemed to be his only choice, however unfortunate.

This particular weekend was being spent in London for an upscale convention of sorts, with world-famous lawyers coming from all over. Some old friends from Germany would be in attendance. A couple Russians of whom he recognized the names would be there too, along with some Chinese fellows and other French attorneys, to add to all the other attorneys from other countries. All of the lawyers attending this party were worthy of the ultimate status – which was of course why he was invited – and all of them were classy, sophisticated, and experienced.

And then there was Phoenix Wright.

How in the world Wright got invited to this party was beyond what Edgeworth was capable to comprehend. He was neither classy, nor sophisticated, nor experienced. He was not worthy of the ultimate status. He was unkempt, whimsical, and impulsive. He was loyal, passionate, sympathetic, hard-working, understanding, determined, pulchritudinous…

Edgeworth caught himself and cut himself off sharply. Thoughts about Wright always led to horrid other thoughts that should have been abandoned when he stopped going through puberty, but somehow lingered enough to make him miserable in his young adult years.

When Wright found out he was invited to this sophisticated party, after a childish happy-dance, he pestered Edgeworth into agreeing to share hotel room costs. Under any other circumstances, Edgeworth would have scoffed and told him he was on his own. But a weekend hotel cost in London was a sum even for Edgeworth and if it was a lot for Edgeworth than it was a death notice to Wright. So he let the frugal man get him to agree to a shared room, and the matter was settled.

At least, that's what Edgeworth told himself the reason was.

He stepped into the phone booth, digging in his pockets for his wallet. He found the appropriate slot and slid the correct amount of money into the slot. And then he was lost.

Edgeworth grew up with modern technology and had a cell phone as soon as they came out. But there was a time, naturally, before cell phones. His home had had a landline like every other home. But the landline was still _cordless_ and didn't have these rotary dials. How were these supposed to work? He messed around with the dial and got nothing more than the dial tone. And when he thought he got the number correct, an obnoxious woman's voice with a British accent said "I'm sorry, the number you tried is not available." Edgeworth was quickly losing his temper.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door of the phone box. Willing to pick a fight, Edgeworth flipped around – still holding the corded phone, to prove he was not just standing there doing nothing – with one of his death glares upon his face and opened his mouth to say something menacing. But the person who knocked on the door made all menacing thoughts rush out his ears and instead what came out of his mouth was disbelief.

"Wright? What are you doing around here?" Edgeworth opened the door, but was careful to keep the dark glare on his face.

"I could ask you the same thing," Wright said sheepishly. "I went out to do some shopping for Pearls and Maya but I guess they close everything on Sundays, so," he shrugged. "Your turn."

"If you must know, I was having lunch with an old colleague," Edgeworth said.

"That doesn't explain why you're in a phone booth."

"I'm afraid my phone died," Edgeworth turned his head away to look at the bloody phone again. "As you can see, this street is deserted, somehow. I thought it would be my best choice to use the phone booth to call a taxi to pick me up." Part of that was a lie, of course. He was about to dial Wright's number but he left that out – it was kind of creepy, Edgeworth thought, to tell someone who had just appeared that you were thinking of them a minute prior.

"Well, you look kind of annoyed," Phoenix was laughing. "Did you get a hold of the cab?"

"No. I was interrupted." The smirk on his face was making Edgeworth want to cringe. Instead, he just glared harder.

Obviously, though, Phoenix was oblivious or perhaps completely numb to Edgeworth's death glares. "Sor-ry," he enunciated each syllable to demonstrate his sarcasm. Edgeworth didn't reply. "Well, I'll catch the cab with you, since I'm over here. We can split the cost."

Edgeworth was in a predicament – and that was an understatement. He could not just make the phone call with Phoenix standing there. He had too much pride to mess up a simple phone call in front of a man he had to face in court on a regular basis. (He also did not want to embarrass himself in front of someone he thought was somewhat attractive, though he refused to admit this to himself.) He also had too much pride to "split the cost" of a cab ride. Luckily, there was a list of cab company's numbers on a tag in the booth so he wouldn't be caught up in his lie. There were so many problems that Edgeworth didn't even know where to start but Phoenix's expectant and relaxed face somehow forced him to agree without argument and he nodded, turning back to the phone.

Phoenix – no, Wright – had his back leaning against the booth so luckily Edgeworth could figure out the phone without looking too much like a fool. He tried gripping the edges of the circular dial and moving it counterclockwise to the number he wanted. Nothing. He tried sticking his finger in the hole and moving it towards the first number. It wouldn't go. Edgeworth was beginning to grow flustered and impatient at his incompetence. He was a star prosecutor, and he couldn't work a public phone box?

Maybe thirty seconds had passed and Wright turned around and knocked on the door yet again. Miles whipped around, flung the door open, and let out a hoarse "What!"

"Is something _wrong_, Edgeworth?" Phoenix was smiling a little but as far as Miles could see it was not entirely condescending. "I didn't hear you talking, so…"

Edgeworth glared at Wright, and glared at the phone, and turned to glare at the rotary dial behind him. "The thing's broken."

And at last, Wright let out a paroxysm of laughter. "Edgeworth, are you serious?"

"This isn't funny, Wright!" Edgeworth hissed indignantly. But before he knew it, the still-laughing Phoenix was making his way _into the booth_ – with Edgeworth still in it – and taking the phone from his hands and dialing the cab company's number on the rotary dial. The phone box was not meant to hold two people, and Wright and Edgeworth were very compact in there. Edgeworth was trying to get out but Wright was blocking the exit with his arm and holding the phone. He got the cab company on the line and told them to send a cab at such and such street, in front of such and such store. Then he hung up.

"See, Edgeworth? Not that hard," Wright was pressed up against him in a way that should have been illegal. Edgeworth was trying to keep his cool but it was so warm in there, and Wright's eyes were so blue, and his lips were so pink, and there was nowhere to go.

He was trying to find the words to say "please get off of me you malevolent fool" but instead what came out of his mouth was "H-How did you do that?" And he cursed himself for stuttering because it was Phoenix Wright, and there was no need to stutter in front of such a man.

As if Wright could read his face (which made Edgeworth wonder in horror if he was blushing or something equally as mortifying), he lowered his voice in pitch and volume. "You mean the rotary dial? You just gotta put your finger there…" To demonstrate, Wright lightly grabbed Edgeworth's wrist and guided it to the hole of the first number, placing his finger in the indent. "And you move it to the silver piece of metal…" He was still guiding Edgeworth's wrist in his instructions. "And you let it fall back…and you keep doing that."

"Ah…I see." Edgeworth didn't move his wrist. He couldn't. He was completely frozen in place, and it was all because of Phoenix Wright.

"You learn something new every day, I guess," Wright didn't let go of his wrist either.

Edgeworth did not change his stern countenance. "What about you? What have you learned today?"

Wright seldom looked this serious. Only when he was on a lead in the courtroom. But this serious look appeared on his face at this exact moment. There was a hesitation before he spoke. "Well, I think I learned that I've wanted to do this for a very long time."

Before Edgeworth could ask a question to clear up the ambiguousness of his statement, Phoenix had put his lips to his.

Edgeworth just stood there, frozen in shock, before he finally realized what was going on. He had _just_ been thinking about this very scenario and it was actually occurring. They were really kissing. Of course, it wasn't in an ideal circumstance. They were in a ridiculously tiny phone booth in a foreign city but who could really complain? Then he realized he should probably be moving his lips back otherwise Phoenix was going to think he didn't want this, and that was preposterous.

So it became that they were really, truly kissing in a phone box on a deserted London street. They occasionally let out breathy gasps and quiet moans. Phoenix's hands travelled to Miles' shoulders and pressed him harder against the wall of the phone booth – if that was really possible – and Miles lifted his hands to grab onto the spikes of Phoenix's hair to pull him in deeper, deeper, until their mouths were fully open and locked on each other.

Phoenix dragged his hands down Miles' chest and abdomen before finally settling on his waist. Miles moved from the back of Phoenix's head to his chin instead, cupping it in his hands but still not deescalating the intensity of what they were doing. He was incredibly thankful the street was so empty. This gratitude was magnified when Phoenix suddenly took Miles' compromising position and made it that much more arousing when he wiggled his knee in between Miles' legs, pressing his entire body against him.

Miles moaned yet again and pulled his mouth away from Phoenix's to breathe heavily in his ear, "Are you sure you want this?" He smiled deviously when he felt Phoenix shudder.

"Completely." As if their lives were a stage play, the both of them suddenly heard tires on the road. Quickly, Miles shoved himself out of the phone booth, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before the cab could pull up in front of the phone booth. Phoenix eventually followed after straightening himself out.

They both slid into the cab and Miles told the driver the name of the hotel. The two men said nothing to each other but they knew exactly what the other was thinking about.

It was suffice to say that Miles Edgeworth learned more than how to dial a rotary telephone that day.

**A/N: I don't actually know how to dial a rotary dial. Thanks, eHow! I hope you enjoyed it. Please please please review!**


End file.
